Travelers' Tales: New Zealand

TRAVELERS’TALES

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NEW ZEALAND

Ian and Dianne Wynn traveled to New Zealand with Audley

M y wife is very understanding. We often do many things together while other activities, namely my fly fishing, is a solo activity. (“You want me to stand about in cold water and then wave a rod about? I will stick to my sewing, thank you.”). Therefore, a trip to New Zealand was the perfect compromise, a place where I could fish for wild brown trout, and while doing so Dianne could spend her time walking and taking photos.

The trip would, of course, focus on the sights and experiences of this wonderful country. Specific areas were shortlisted, such

as visiting Napier and Hastings on the North Island, both famed for their Art Deco architecture – a particular love of Dianne’s. We planned to walk the Tongariro Crossing for the sheer excitement and challenge; plus we’d take a heli-hike, so we could walk on the Franz Josef Glacier and see the ice caves. Oh, and did I mention the fishing? Some was planned on both the North Island and then a guided day on the South Island.

NORTH ISLAND

We started our trip with the Tongariro trek, only setting out the next day for sightseeing

Happy fisherman Ian lands his prize in the rivers of New Zealand

and fishing. After a good breakfast we headed into Turangi, a small, sleepy and friendly town in the south west corner of the lake.

So we headed up the Tongariro River and explored the various pools. I started on the far bank as there was good space to work a 100-foot-long bend in the river, which provided a variety of opportunities for drifting a heavy fly through the current. While I was attempting to hook into anything that would look at the variety of flies I had attached to my line, my wife had been exploring the local area and taking photographs. So at the end of the day, we

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TRAVELERS’ TALES

had both enjoyed ourselves, Dianne’s results seem to have been more productive than mine but I had learned a lot about the section of the river and tomorrow was another day – I would be back.

The next day dawned with clear blue skies and warm sunshine, paradise found as we looked out from our accommodation across Lake Taupo. Back out we went, crossing back across to the slower side of the bend; I fancied that there would be a fish or two in this water. Same fly, same technique. Soon enough, another lovely rainbow fish obliged and rose to take the cicada. This time, not only had Dianne returned from her wanderings but she had managed to video the catch – proof that I had achieved my goal.

SOUTH ISLAND

Next was the South Island. Wine tasting and visits to national parks were all on the agenda, but my real treat was about to begin. I was to fish; Dianne would come along and enjoy the scenery, read a book while sitting on the bank, and – when and if I got into a fish – take a picture or two.

Our guide John’s instructions were simple: “Stay behind me as I will scout the river and then call you up when I find the fish.” After wading through deep water and fighting through river reeds John found some fish holding up in a side stream to the main flow. I quickly caught

six, but could I make seven – one for each day of the week?

John was on top of the bank and told me he’d seen the one that I had come to connect w ith. Every bit the fish of a lifetime, he estimated it to be around the 10lb mark. Time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace as my fly dead-drifted down the edge of the river close to the bank towards the fish. A huge head appeared and gulped down the fly – ‘fish on’ and was this some fish.

Off the fish went into the fast and deep water, the line’s resistance simply making him more annoyed. A schoolboy error then took place: running downstream was not an option with me having already chanced my luck by wading close to the fast moving main flow of water just a couple of feet away.

Instead of increasing the drag I used my hand as a brake on the rim of the reel, the pain this would cause would have been worth it to get this fish to the net. But my hand then caught the winding arm and – ping. ‘Fish off’.

Deflated and angry at making such an error, I climbed the bank and we made our way back to the road reflecting upon what was a fantastic day. Yes, I had failed at the final hurdle but, in real terms, the success and elation of sight fishing for wild brownies in gin-clear water in New Zealand had become a reality. A story to be told was safely in the memory banks… and on the memory card in the camera, too.

The water’s edge Dianne and Ian on the beach in New Zealand

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